Paternal Instincts
by Miss Information
Summary: He could deny it all he liked, but he really did think of her as a daughter. A pointless oneshot, set well after X3. Enjoy!


Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.

A/N: Let me just start off by saying, although this revolves around Rogue and Wolverine, it's not in a romantic context. Just letting you know. Also: this is a stand-alone, single-chapter story.

Now, we're all well aware that a person can say one thing and mean another. Wolverine's just the sort who'd do that, don't you agree? A lie is easier, sometimes, than the truth, but though he knows how to carefully tread the line between lying to himself and accepting the truth...even he can't ignore hard evidence to the contrary.

Love it or shove it!

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**Paternal Instincts**

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The kid was getting married.

It wasn't right. The son of a bitch she'd taken to so hard was years older than her - she was only twenty-two, but he was thirty-eight. It just wasn't right. And she was so young. What was she doing getting married, really? All the other girls her age didn't even have a steady boyfriend - they were out dating whoever they wanted, staying out as late as they liked and the hell with what anyone else thought. That's how _she_ should've been; caution to the wind and all that shit. She shouldn't have been like...like _this_. Already settling down, and with that..._guy_.

But she was gonna do it. She was getting married.

With his elbows up on the cool kitchen counter, Wolverine glared at the little wedding cake that was sat next to him on the bench. He shifted on the stool he occupied, hands clutching a little tighter at his beer. He could remember her organizing that white-iced thing; she must've spent at least three hours on the phone with the baker and it wasn't anything amazing anyway. He was slightly glad that she hadn't gone for one of those big fruity cakes with all that weird icing and frills and crap hanging off of it; it didn't feel nearly so effeminate to be sitting next to a plain little thing like that. Still, it was an awful lot of time just for a cake.

But she wanted it that way. She wanted a plain little cake. She wanted an outdoor wedding. She wanted a small ceremony - just the nearest and dearest. Well...more rather 'they' wanted a small ceremony. 'They' wanted an outdoor wedding. Wolverine knew that _he_ let the kid go on the particulars - the little things. Seating, catering...the details were her personal touches. The rest was a collaboration from the two of 'them'. The kid and her fiancé.

Christ. She was too young to have one of those.

The kitchen door creaked open to admit a second person into the room, and the click, click of stately high heels told him who the intruder was before he even turned his head. "Storm," he said, by way of an acknowledgement.

The white-haired woman paused for a moment, looking between him, the cake and his beer. What, like she didn't know he drank? So what if it was mid-afternoon...the kid was throwing her life away in less than twenty-four hours. The very life that he'd promised to look out for, and had, for so many years. That was cause to drink, in his opinion.

"Wolverine..." Storm sounded hesitant, though thoroughly amused. "Are you feeling okay?"

Oh, God. More talk about 'feelings'. Like he hadn't already talked himself hoarse after Alkali Lake, after Alcatraz Island, after the reappearance of Jean Grey, after the Cure wore off from just about every mutant, after the kid finally learned to control her powers, after the kid dropped Iceman and started seeing this _new_ shithead...

"I'm fine," he answered shortly, well aware that he'd paused for much too long.

"Are you sure?" Storm pressed, taking up the seat next to him. She couldn't lean into the bench, as he was; the goddamn cake was in her way.

"I'm sure," he maintained bluntly, trying to keep from glaring at the baked confectionary again. She'd never let it drop if she noticed he was getting pissed off at a dessert.

"Well, alright. It's just..."

"Just _what_?"

He could see her smiling, goddamn it, out of the corner of his eye. "Marie's starting to worry that you're going to get paralytic and the ceremony's tomorrow. You _did_ promise to give her away, Logan, and I don't think they'll be able to relocate the entire wedding party to the med bay if you get alcohol poisoning."

Alright, so he _had_ been drinking for a while now. What time was it? Three. Okay...he'd been drinking for about four hours. Whoop-de-fucking-shit. He wasn't even lightly buzzed. "I'm fine," he said again.

"If you say so."

What the hell had her sounding so amused, anyway? "You don't believe me?"

"Oh, no. Your healing powers would definitely keep you in shape, I'd bet. You won't even feel hung over in the morning, we all know..."

"Then what's your damn point? What're you on my case about?"

Storm's smile dropped slightly, but only to make her look sympathetic rather than ready to burst out laughing. She turned her face away from his line of vision. "Did you know there've been other weddings held here...the weddings of former students, or old staff members who left before you got here? I almost got married here, too. Years ago, to a man named Forge. Of course, that didn't work out..." She laughed lightly. "It was disastrous in the end, to be honest. But my point is...I've seen the problem you're going through right now happen a handful of times before."

Wolverine took a long pull from his beer, draining the bottle dry. "What problem?"

"The father's anxiety."

He blinked, letting her words sink in, before turning to face the weather-witch. "I'm not Marie's father," he said evenly.

"No. But you're the closest thing she has to one now - the man who looks after her until she finds someone else for the job. And that's your problem." Storm slipped off of her seat and plucked the empty bottle out of his hands as she went. "She's the closest thing you've ever had to an actual family - an adopted daughter, of sorts." She moved around the breakfast counter and dropped the bottle in the wastebasket. "You're upset because she's found someone else to protect her, and you feel like you're being replaced. You're feeling almost insulted, because you don't think that the man she's chosen to spend the rest of her life with can come anywhere near you as a protector."

"What the hell are you on about?"

Storm smiled again and leaned against the sink. She tilted her head to the side, as though she were curious about him. "Logan, every father dreads the day when his little girl grows up and breaks his heart by turning to another man, looking up to him as the most important person in her life...taking over, in effect, the role that the father thought would be his forever."

"The kid ain't my daughter."

"No," Storm agreed with visible patience, "but you think of her as one. Biological ties don't matter. The two of you are as good as father and child."

"How?"

Storm shook her head. "Are you just being deliberately thickheaded today, or is that alcohol actually catching up on you? From the moment the two of you came to the Institute, you had that relationship. The first thing you wanted to know, once you knew you were out of danger, was where Marie was. Despite being surrounded by people who would look out for her, Marie still gravitated towards you for protection and guidance. On Liberty Island, despite the fact that any one of the other X-Men would have been better suited to disabling that bizarre machine, you volunteered for the position even though you knew that Magneto still had a good chance at crushing you. Are you seeing a pattern yet?"

Logan's hands clenched and he wished he'd had the foresight to get more beer. "Yeah," he admitted quietly.

"Okay." Storm released a long sigh, as though she were relieved. "Now will you admit your problem over this wedding? That you're worried that Marie's replacing you, and with someone who you don't think is worth your competition let alone her regard?"

"The guy's _alright_..."

"But he's not the best, is he? He's good, but not _good_ _enough_ for your little Marie?"

Logan scowled. "Goddamn it."

"So you admit it?"

"Alright. Fine. I admit it." He glared up at Storm. "Happy?"

"Far from it." The white-haired woman levered herself off of the sink and came to stand directly in front of him, on the opposite side of the counter. "Logan, she's not replacing you."

That sounded good to his jarred nerves. "Yeah?"

"Though you don't like it or really believe it, Marie's found someone who she can both find protection under _as_ _well_ as someone who can make her happy as a woman, in this fiancé of hers. As her father-figure, you can only do the first thing - otherwise, you make her feel like a sheltered child. Now that's still important, but it's not enough for an adult, is it?" Storm's light, understanding smile returned. "You haven't been replaced, Logan. Some of your responsibility has been shifted, but that's all. You're still a very necessary part of her life, and she isn't going to just forget you during the course of her honeymoon."

"Hn." Wolverine rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a crick there that had hadn't noticed before. "You think?"

"I _know_," Storm laughed. "Look, if you need reassurance, why not go see her yourself? Nothing's changed with her. She might be putting another man first now, but she'll still light up like a Christmas tree for you."

"Gotta see her anyway..." Wolverine got to his feet slowly. "Thanks, Stormy."

"Anytime. And don't call me that. Oh...and you also might like to talk to her fiancé on the way to see her. Who only knows, he could use a little reassurance that you're not going to eviscerate him..."

"Heh. Yeah..."

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End file.
